Stop Here
by BlackHowling77
Summary: I could have done something. I could have taken her keys, or as a last resort, stolen her cell phone. But since I didn't, I had to pay the price. The ultimate price. TXG Twoshot.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note**: I know, I know. But please, just read it and review. Review. Review! If I get enough, I have another chapter that will balance this one out. Well, kind of.

Enjoy!

* * *

I punch Chad's kitchen wall with enough force to dent the drywall.

It feels good so I punch again. And again. And again.

The curly-haired teen curses and when I continue, runs around the island to stop me. "Troy! Stop!" He tries to pin my arms to my side, but I won't budge. "Man! Seriously! Stop!"

Taylor finally walks over to help. When my fist leaves a bloody print, all she does is lay that soft, so comforting hand on my shoulder and I collapse in upon myself.

I fall apart.

I shatter into a million pieces over and over again.

And then she utters a sentence that reduces me to tears.

"Troy…" Taylor's voice is so soft and caring when she wants it to be. "…Troy, she wouldn't have wanted this."

I slide down the wall, Chad's arms still wrapped tightly around me and I think he's afraid that if he lets go — if he _ever_ lets go — that I will leave him too.

"She wouldn't have wanted this." Taylor shakes her head, tears falling to the hardwood and she bends forward onto her hands and knees, heaving sob after broken sob into the kitchen floor.

"…it's not fair…" I look up and see Sharpay resting against the opposite wall, knees pulled up to her chest. Her eyes, the eyes that always hold emotion, are dead. She shakes her head slowly, as if trying to deny a bad dream. "…it's not fair…"

But this isn't a dream. It's our reality.

"It's my fault," I mumble. "It's all my fault."

The kitchen is suddenly silent and I watch Sharpay stand from where she's been sitting, face still emotionless. Taylor straightens as well as the blond walks over and sits down right next to her.

The two of them slap me at the same time.

One on each side.

"Don't you dare think that," Sharpay growls softly, almost like she's alive again. She sits next to me, resting the back of her head against the wall. "Ever."

Taylor reaches forward and grabs my face. "Troy Bolton, you loved Gabriella Montez."

And for some reason, that makes me cry harder. Maybe it was the past tense on the end of love. Maybe because it's the truth. I had loved her, but I can't anymore. I shake my head and let it drop because I'm done fighting back the emotion. It's too tiring and I'm done.

Because there's nothing left to fight for.

East High has lost.

A student.

A senior.

A Valedictorian.

_We_ have lost.

A rival.

A best friend.

A lover.

And Sharpay is right.

Because it's not fair.

But Taylor is wrong.

Because it's my fault.

It's _all_ my fault.

----------

_Two days ago_

Beating West High and winning the conference trophy was amazing.

The emotions I got when I was finally able to say that I was the best. It can be pretty euphoric and scary at the same time. It can also make you do some stupid things. Feeling or doing one or the other isn't much by itself, but when you combine the two, now that's something special.

But for some reason I wasn't felling special.

I had a headache and I couldn't walk straight. The red cup in my hand was spilling beer everywhere. Now, don't judge me. It's the first time I've had anything more than a vodka shot or rum and coke. But it was a party and I was celebrating.

I wander down a hallway to get away from the mainstream noise. It's just murdering my head and I figure I should get out before the cops are called. There's nothing like getting caught drinking underage to slap on your permanent record. Hey college executives, my grades are awesome and I know how to party, what you say about letting me in?

I walk back into the main room, the floor shakes uneasy underneath me. Well, I stagger in, really. But with that I realize that I can't drive. I was somewhat trashed, but I'm smart. I wouldn't put others in danger at the cost of my stupid choices. I grab for the piano in the living room, sliding my hands down to the bench where I sit.

I want to leave. Really, I do. Gabriella isn't fond of drinking, not saying that she's never done it. But she's smart. A lot smarter than I'm being right now and I know she'd be a little disappointed. I couldn't stand the look on her face she'd give me.

Then a hand touches my shoulder, giving it a little, gentle squeeze.

It's Jessica Cox.

She asks if I need a ride home. I laugh at her. Was I really that transparent? Could people really see how miserable I was? How completely smashed I was?

She hooks her arm in mine and helps me up. We walk out through the front door, through the crowd of people passed out on the porch or the ones smoking in the yard. The grass is damp and my feet, which I can't feel, are numb and heavy, sliding and shuffling across the yard until we reach the sidewalk, which is just as, if not more, treacherous than the front lawn. It's raining, not heavy, but it's a steady mist. The stuff that's annoying. The type of rain that should either get harder or stop, the in between crap doesn't work for me.

I slip once, almost taking Jessica down with me, but she's a lot stronger than she looks. Cheerleaders always are.

Jessica doesn't say anything. She knows Gabriella — who doesn't?—knows Gabriella's views on drinking, and my behavior at the moment isn't explainable.

So, in silence, Jessica leads me to her car. My thoughts are all about Gabriella but I feel Jessica's touch. She holds my arm with such tenderness as she lowers me into the passenger seat. She buckles the seat belt, gets into her seat, and we leave. Just like that.

But what happens next, I remember all too well. I wasn't paying attention, anything moving outside the car was too fast and it made my head hurt. I focused on the windshield wipers, yes, they were outside of the car, but they were a part of the car. They moved with the car, not against it. They pulled across the windshield on slow speed; the drone was relaxing and made the pounding in my head lessen.

It wasn't raining heavily, but it was enough to blur the windshield.

And then — we hit.

The front wheel on my side jumps the curb. A wooden post crashes into the front bumper and snaps like a toothpick. A Stop sign falls backwards onto Jessica's hood and she screams and slams on the brakes. Through the side mirror, I see sparks fly as we screech to a stop. If it hadn't been raining, I think the car would have caught fire.

We sit in silence for a long moment, staring out the blurred windshield. She doesn't turn to me and I don't turn to her. No glances pass between us. My hands stay gripped to my seatbelt, thankful for a) Jessica putting it on and b) that we only hit a sign.

She opens her door finally and I watch as she walks to the front of the car. She crouches into the headlights and looks under for a closer look. She stands up and runs her hand along the dent, and then she pushes the Stop sign off of the hood, letting it crash to the sidewalk. Her head drops forward and I can't tell if she's pissed, laughing, or crying.

The dent wasn't _that_ bad. Okay, it was but I wasn't going to tell her that. She had to feel thankful though. I mean, we could have hit _someone_.

She lifts her head up and I can't read her emotion. It's blank, which is weird because don't all cheerleaders show at least some kind of emotion all the time? Jessica looks at the damage the stop sigh has done to her hood and shakes her head. She finally catches my eyes, and emotion flashes for the briefest of seconds. She gives me the weirdest look, like 'what are you doing in my car?' and then she remembers, the frown on her face turning upside down.

She forces a shrug and gets back into the car. "My dad is going to kill me." She puts the keys into the ignition and turns on the car.

"Stop." My hands on her arm but I don't remember moving it.

"Troy, I'm fine. I haven't had anything to drink." She closes her eyes and sighs, like she's trying to explain the situation to a little kid.

"I didn't accuse you of drinking, Jessica." I retort.

"It was the rain." She explains.

"It's misting." I say. "Park it."

"Be realistic," she says, an edge hidden in her voice. But I hear it. "You live right around the corner, if worst comes to worst; I can sleep in your basement or something until the morning. Hell, I'll sleep in my car."

"Park the car." I repeat.

"Troy," she puts a hand on my arm, it's not comforting anymore. "Don't worry about it. Nobody pays attention to Stop signs around here anyway. No cop no stop, remember?"

"Park the car," I repeat. "I'll call Chad or Gabriella and get them to take us home. You can get your car in the morning."

Her eyes start to harden, but she tries one more time. "Listen Troy—."

"Park it."

She sighs frustratingly and clenches her jaw. "Get out."

"Seriously, Jessica?" I start. "You're lucky it was a Stop sign. I don't even know why you swerved. Am I really supposed to let you drive all the way home when—"

"Get out!"

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

"Troy. Get! Out!"

And I do. I open the door, the fuzziness in my head clearing a bit. I listen to the rain pounding down on the car hood and hitting the leaves on the tree branches. Looking down, I find Jessica's eyes, and then her phone.

"Can I use that?" I point to the small device and then search around in my back jeans pockets. "I don't know where mine is."

"Why?"

"We have to tell someone about the sign," I say, rather surprised.

"Get away from the car, Troy."

I look at her, astonished, and she revs the engine. I get the picture and back up. She slams her foot down on the gas and the car shoots forward, the door slamming shut in the process. I watch her peel away from me, getting farther and farther away until she finally vanishes.

I gaze down to the Stop sign on the sidewalk. I figure I should try to put in back on, however lame that sounds. Reaching down, I grab the metal sign and haul it up, or attempt to. I drop it and the circular edge almost cuts off my foot. I finally manage to get it propped up on what is left of the wooden post. I stand back, admiring my handiwork and then glance around.

I'm still a little tipsy so going home is out of the question.

I'm not explaining _that_ to my father.

So I walk, turning corner after corner, having no idea where I'm going. A little while later I get the most disgusting taste in my mouth. I'm close to the Exxon. I can get a soda and there's probably a pay phone. I can call the cops and tell them about the wrecked Stop sign.

But as I hold the receiver in my hand, my coke bottle resting on the damp ground, I find my heartbeat getting faster and faster. Someone answers and I dive in headfirst.

"Hey, um, I just wanted to tell you that on the intersection between Lee Acres and Los—."

She cuts me off. "Calm down sir. Local ambulances have already been called and are on their way."

I think it was the word ambulances that did it because I drop the receiver and was already sprinting back. I'm no longer tipsy. I can remember every turn I made and the shortcuts in between that can get me to my destination faster. With adrenalin coursing through my veins I turn the last corner and am met with devastation.

Two cars are awkwardly positioned in the intersection. Glass was everywhere and a group of people have already gathered. Already? That was a stupid assumption. Just because I showed up doesn't mean the accident has just happened.

But then again, I can't understand it! I glance frantically to the Stop sign. It was resting on the ground, colorful red side down. It must have fallen over. My eyes flash back to the accident and that's when I catch it.

There are two cars, but only one matters.

If I thought it would've helped, I would have thrown up.

But it wouldn't have because the driver's side to Gabriella's black Honda Civic is bent inwards dangerously far.

Too far.

I sprint, pushing people out of my way until I get to the car. "Get out of my way!" I roared, pulling the last man away. I peer into the cracked glass. Her side airbags have gone off.

I tap the glass frantically. "Gabriella! Baby, can you hear me?"

Something moves and then the car door opens. I'm surprised that the metal joint even works considering the damage it took.

And then Gabriella slides into my arms.

I yell in surprise and sink down to the wet pavement, clutching her body close to me. It's now, when she's right here, right in my arms, that I realize how serious the situation is. Her hair is pulled up into a pony tail and she's wearing the same clothes she had on this morning.

Her left side is cut open and bleeding freely. Deep and painful. The impact must have caused it but I can't think straight. There's so much blood. Too much.

She's bleeding to death.

"Gabriella, please. _Please_." I stroke her cheek as she blinks rapidly. Finally, her eyes lock on mine. Confusion clouds her cut up face. I can almost read her mind. Troy? Why are you here? If only to secure my guess, her mouth moves to form words, but nothing comes out. She can't talk.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," I choke out, still stroking her cheek. I move one of my hands to her side, holding it over the wound. She closes her eyes and swallows painfully, but doesn't make a sound.

"Where's that damn ambulance!" I roar, tears in my voice.

No one answers me. They're all just staring. Not believing that something like this could happen in their perfect little world.

I turn back down to Gabriella when she grabs a hold of my shirt. I look into her eyes and see everything. Singing at New Year's for the first time. The winter musical. Summer before senior year. The thought that I might actually lose her because I was being a jerk. Then senior year. The musical that we were all supposed to do in the spring. Graduation. College.

The musical she'll never get to do.

The graduation she'll never get to speak at.

The college she'll never get to go to.

The world she'll never get to make an impact in.

She pulls on my shirt and I lean down, close to her mouth.

"…it..it's…oka…okay…" she whispers, and I can tell that she's done.

But I'm not made at her.

She says the words again, only this time, blood slips from her mouth. She swallows, sighs, almost an annoyed sigh. I laugh, a choked, sobbing laugh.

"…I…lov…love…you…Troy…Bolton." Her eyes lock on mine and I don't know what to say.

I lean down and kiss her. She kisses me back and I can taste tears, hers or mine I can't tell. Finally after what seems like forever, I pull back and touch my forehead to hers. "I love you too, Gabriella Montez. With all my heart. Now and for forever."

She smiles and blinks away the tears. I stay with her, holding her.

And she lies there and smiles at me the entire time.

And I smile back because I know it'll make her miserable if she doesn't see me smile at least one last time.

Her eyes close two minutes before the ambulances arrive.

And I pull her close to me, bury my face in her neck and cry.

----------

_Five blocks from the party there is a Stop sign._

_But on that night, for part of that night, the most important part, there wasn't._

_And someone was trying to deliver his Chinese before the twenty minute guarantee ran out and the customer didn't have to pay._

_And someone else, someone headed in the opposite direction, someone headed to a certain boyfriend's house, was turning._

_But there was no Stop sign on that corner._

_Not on that night._

_At that time._

_When it mattered most._


	2. Chapter Two

_Two weeks later_

I look in the mirror, look at my red puffy eyes, and realize nothing will ever be the same. The funeral was today, and that just makes it all the more real. She's really gone.

_She's really gone._

The thought brings tears to my eyes again and I turn, not wanting to look at the face of the man who had a hand in her death. I walk over to my bed and drop onto it, wrapping a pillow around my head. I turn into my bed and scream, roar, make any noise that makes me feel better. But in the end, I calm down and just cry.

There's a knock at my door. "Troy, hunny?" the door opens and I can imagine my mom's worried face in the doorway.

I don't say anything, just continue to cry. I don't want to talk right now.

"I'll come back later." She whispers softly. "And don't forget, dinners at six." The door closes but I don't care. I don't even think I can eat. I don't think I'll ever be able to eat again.

"She's just trying to watch over you, Troy."

And I'm going crazy with guilt because I think I can hear Gabriella, talking to me.

"You don't have to such a jerk about it."

This time I sit up, removing the pillow from my face. My eyes go wide because she's sitting, legs crossed, on my dresser. She looks exactly the same, just like the last time I saw her. Except there's no blood. She's perfect.

The near sight of her makes me back up. I fall backwards off of my bed in shock, a startled scream escaping my lips.

"Troy!" She yells. "Are you okay?"

I shoot to my feet, retreating towards the wall. "Don't come near me." I stutter, waving a hand, and I watch as she rolls her chocolate eyes.

"And why can't I come near you?" She asks, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

My head jerks back and tilts to the side. "Because you're dead." I say rather bluntly.

A pained expression crosses her face. She looks to the side and licks her lips. "Yeah." She says finally.

I swallow back my fear and take a curious step towards her. "Then…then what is this?" I ask.

She gives me a soft smile. "Well, I guess you're dreaming." She pauses and glances towards the bed. "Yeah, you're defiantly dreaming."

"This is a dream?" I ask, taking another step towards her. My hand itches for her skin. My heart beats for her warmth. I want to touch her, make sure that's she's actually here. That I'm not going crazy.

She seems to read my mind and takes the final step towards me. We're inches apart and I can't stand it. One of her hand's reaches slowly for me and I'm surprised when her fingers trace my arm. I can _feel_ her, warmth spreading throughout my body at the contact.

Her fingers run up my arm, her other hand mimicking the movements on my other. She finally reaches my face and her palms cup my cheeks. She looks deep into my eyes and smiles. Her thumbs move to the corners of my eyes and I realize that I've started to cry. She wipes the wetness away gently.

I choke on a laugh and ease my fingers beneath her long hair, clasping the back of her neck. She titles her chin and looks up at me.

And that one look is my undoing.

Her mouth parts on a gentle sigh, almost board, and I grin. _Any time now_, I can picture her saying, in that voice that only she uses. I urge her face upwards as I lower my mouth to hers. I kiss her, feel the smile curve across her lips, and in that one moment I know my life will never be the same again. We stand there, locked in each others embrace until Gabriella pushes me backwards. I land on my bed and she's on top of me, running her hands through my hair. Finally, she pulls away and rests her forehead on mine.

"Some dream, huh?" She chuckles, eyes still closed.

"I can—I don't believe this." I say, shaking my head. "How?"

She rolls off of me and sighs. "I had a decent life, Troy. I barley did anything wrong." She turned to me. "You know in high school, when you get good grades and it transfers to college scholarships? The better the grades the higher the tuition coverage's. Well," she motions to herself, "this is a way of repaying me."

I interrupt her. "You're comparing God's generosity to college scholarships?"

She looks at me and cocks her head to the side. "You're right, I am." She smiles and strokes my cheek. Then, she glances towards the ceiling, tilting her head to the side, like she's listening to a loudspeaker in an elevator.

"What?" I ask.

"He's correcting me," she rolls her eyes and turns her head back to me. "_He_ says it's more along the lines of Karma."

My mouth drops open. "_He_?" I stutter. "Like," my eyes shift towards the ceiling, "the big man upstairs?"

She smiles at me, amused.

I get past the fact that she's actually talking about God in the first person and ask, "Karma?" I raise my eyebrows, "isn't that mixing religions?"

"Call it whatever you want, but I'm here."

"And I still can't believe it." I pull her on top of me, her cheek resting against my chest. "I thought I had lost you."

She props her head up on her chin. "This isn't going to last forever, Troy. He's just letting me have a proper goodbye."

I tighten my hold around her. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

She sighs. "Do you remember what I told you that day?"

My whole body goes rigid. I clench my jaw and fight back the painful memories. But I can't. They rush at me like a wave of ocean water. The Stop sign. The aimless wondering when I could have been calling the cops. Then when I finally did and my world came crashing down. Seeing her car so damaged. Seeing _her_ so damaged. Her eyes closing for the last time. She would never open them again. And the worst part was all of it was my fault.

"Why do you think that?" She demands, sitting up.

"How can I not?" I say back.

"It's not your fault." She gets to her feet, eyes blazing.

"Yes it is." I roar, running my hands over my face. "The stop sign—"

"Did you hit it?" She snaps quickly.

My mouth opens and closes.

"Did you not try to get Jessica to pull over?" She storms her way around the bed. "Did you not try and put the sign back up?" Finally, she stands right in front of me, locking her eyes on mine. "Did you not call the police?"

"Yes, I did," I stammer, "But—"

"But what?" She demands.

"But it wasn't enough!" I yell in her face. And I turn away from her, putting one hand over my mouth. When I finally turn back to her, my eyes are soft and my voice is barely audible. "…it just — it wasn't enough."

The anger is gone from her eyes and she makes her way towards me. "Troy, you couldn't have possibly known what was going to happen." She shakes her head.

"But I could have done something more. I could have taken her keys. I could have snatched her cell phone and called the police right away."

"My outstanding life record isn't the only reason why I'm getting to do this," her hands are on my face again and I know she's trying to change the subject. "You're half of the deal."

I look up. "What?"

"If you hadn't had tried so hard, I wouldn't be here right now." She gave me a small smile. "Because of you, because of your efforts to right the wrong, this whole encounter was made possible." She looks deep into my blue eyes. "It was not your fault." She nods her head sternly, coaxing me to do the same.

I do and smile slightly. "It's wasn't my fault." I say out loud.

"It wasn't." She agrees.

"But—"

"Troy!"

"Sorry."

She shakes her head and chuckles softly to herself. "Thank you."

My head tilts to the side, as if looking at her from another angle will make what she had said clearer. "Why are you thanking me?"

She gives me a sheepish smile and I can swear that she's blushing. "Because of you, for the first time, I feel the joy of falling in love with someone." She pauses and looks to the side, smiling. "Because of you, I'm happy, Troy."

"You mean was happy." I say solemnly.

"No," she says sternly. "I told you I loved you the day I died. I meant it."

"And I told you that I would love you for forever and always." I nod my head. "I remember."

"I remember that, but you know you can move on, Troy."

My mouth drops open, eyes growing wide. It takes me a second to regain my bearings. "What are you saying?"

She gave me a soft smile. "Troy, I want you to move on. I want you to be happy."

"Do you have any idea what you're asking me to do?" I say, moving past her. I start to pace the length of my room. "Do you have any—"

"I'm asking you to move on. Be happy." She says flatly. "That's all."

"You're asking me to forget." I snap and I can see the recognition in her eyes.

She shakes her head and takes a step towards me. "No, Troy, that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" I say rather harshly. She cringes and I regret my words almost instantly. "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"No," she shakes her head. "I should have explained my word choice." She walks over to me and takes my hands in hers. "I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to move on, to live, Troy."

"You are my life," one of my hands moves up to her cheek. "I am nothing without you."

"Please don't think that." She shakes her head, and tears start to slip from her eyes. "I don't want to be responsible for your lifelong misery. Please, don't make me responsible for that."

It's then that I realize that we're both so worried about the others feelings. I'm so torn up about the thought that I may have been the one to cause her accident and she's beating herself up because she thinks I'll be miserable for the rest of my life.

I smile. "What a pair, you and I."

"We're completely hopeless." She laughs through her tears.

I look at her and sadness creeps into my voice. "Only, we're not a pair anymore."

She looks back at me for the longest time and doesn't say anything. What can she say? I'm right, aren't I? "Why did it have to be you?" I whisper.

She shrugs softly. "It just was."

"I don't see how I'm going to be able to get over this." I say, shaking my head.

"I have the utmost confidence that you will find someone else," I open my mouth, but she places a delicate finger on my lips. "You will find someone else that will understand that you will always love me, but that you will be able to love them too."

"Does such a person even exist?"

She gives me a warm smile. "If anyone deserves it, Troy Bolton, it's you."

"But they won't be you, Gabriella."

"No one ever will be, Troy." She turns her head, looking over her shoulder. A glazed over expression crosses her face and she grows still for a second.

"Gabriella?"

She finally takes a deep breath and turns back to me. "It's almost time."

I know what she's talking about but for some reason, I'm not sad. I know it was going to happen, and I'm just thankful for the time I get to spend with her. The goodbyes that we get to say. I'm almost happy. I feel more alive than I have since that night.

"Come over here," I lead her to my bed and lay down. She lies down next to me and I wrap my arms around her. She snuggles into my chest and I rest my chin on the top of her head. It's the one thing I'm going to miss most about her. She always seemed to fit just right in my hold. I don't think anyone else will feel the same way she does when I hold them.

"Were you scared?" I choke.

She's quiet for a beat. "I was. During the crash. It was the most harrowing thing you could possibly go through. Glass was flying everywhere, cutting and slicing and I could feel the metal of the car frame bend inwards on me and I kind of knew it was the end." She pauses and gives a world weary sigh. "But then you were there, and," I felt her shrug, "I just wasn't scared anymore. You were there and I was in your arms and I was fine because I got to see you."

"I was scared too," I admit.

"I know you were." She tightens her hold around me and buries her face in my chest. I know time is short.

Gently, I lift her face up until she's looking me straight in the eye. "I will truly miss you, Gabriella Montez."

"And I will always be with you, Troy Bolton," She slips one of her hands free and places it over my heart, "right here. Always and for forever."

I drop my head and she lifts hers. Our lips meet and we kiss.

I don't feel it when she disappears.

My eyes slide open and my head is still buried under my pillow. The unusually large hole that was in my heart hours ago is gone. Instead, I feel full. Full of what, I don't know. Love? Hope? The will to live again? I'll probably call it many things in the next couple of years, but it will always lead me to one person. One person that I can truly own my life too.

Gabriella Montez.

I roll out of my bed and get to my feet. Looking out my window, I smile. The next couple of weeks will be tough, but I'll survive. I'll survive because it's what she would have wanted. I know that now. I'm not going to break down and be miserable for the rest of my life.

I'm going to live.

For the both of us.

It's 6:05 and I enter my kitchen without saying a word. Both of my parents are sitting at the table and I can feel them watch me get my food. When I sit down, my father purposefully diverts his eyes, clearing his throat.

After several minutes of silence, my mom gives me a worried look and when she speaks, her voice is soft with emotion. "You going to be okay, Troy?"

"Yeah," a small smile crosses my face and for the first time in two weeks, I feel alive again. "I think so."

----------

_Eight Years Later_

"Here. Stop here." I say, motioning towards the street corner.

"Here?" My wife of three years, Haley, asks from beside me.

"Yeah." I sigh. "Here."

She pulls the car over to the curb and parks it. I glance over to her and she's fiddling with her keys. I lay one of my hands on hers. "It's okay."

She smiles. "I'm just nervous."

I return the smile and then motions to the Stop sign. "Come on." I get out of the car and Haley joins me, looping her arm in mine as we walk towards the Stop sign.

It's been replaced with a metal pole. Except this metal pole is inscribed with an 'In Loving Memory' and Gabriella's name under it. People, over the years, have inscribed their names on the pole and now, eight years later, not one inch of the metal is left untouched. I show Haley my signature, and then Chad's, Taylor's, Sharpay's and the rest of the gang.

"She must have been one hell of a person to bring those three together." Haley laughs lightly. I watch as she lifts her hand up to the red Stop sign and sighs. "Gabriella Montez," she says and I'm surprised, "I don't know you, but I know someone who does. And even though I'm married to the lunkhead basketball star, I understand that he will always—_always_ love you." Her hand drops and she pulls out a sharpie. I watch as she signs her name somewhere near the bottom of the pole. "I got some flowers, there in the back of the car." She stands and puts the sharpie back in her pocket. "I'll go get them."

She turns to go, but I grab a hold of her hand. She turns to me. "Thank you." I say.

"I know how much she means to you," she replies.

I watch her walk away.

"I told you so."

I turn and a seventeen year old Gabriella Montez is standing yards away from me, arms crossed over her chest. I shake my head and laugh softly.

"She's cute, Troy." The brunette teen admits. "I like her."

"Thank you." I say. "But she's not you."

Gabriella flashes a sad smile. "Baby, no one ever will be."

"I know that."

She sighs deeply and just stares at me. I smile at her. At how she hasn't aged a day. She's the same girl I fell in love with all those years ago, and she's always going to be with me, in my heart. Finally, she inclines her head softly. "I'll see you around, Wildcat." She doesn't say goodbye, which makes my heart flutter. I will see her again.

_"Troy?"_

I open my eyes and lower my hand from the red Stop sign. Haley is back with a bocay of white lilies. She smiles and hands them to me.

"Those are her favorite," I say, placing the flowers at the base of the sign.

"They're beautiful," Haley says.

We're silent for a couple of minutes.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asks finally.

"Yeah," I smile and take her hand in mine. "I think so."

* * *

**Author's Note**: This is a little more uplifting. Maybe. But anyway, review, Review, Review!


End file.
